“Excuse me,” Enne interrupted. She flashed her best, practiced smile. All three of them ran their eyes over her plainly tailored suit and high-necked blouse. Amid the flashier haute couture of the women around her, she knew she stuck out as a tourist.
Enne cleared her throat nervously. “I’m looking for someone. I was hoping you’d be kind enough to assist me.”
“Sure, missy,” Shark said as he elbowed Cigar suggestively. “We’d be glad to help ya. But we have to deal withhim, first.”
“You can’t arrest me,” the boy growled. “I ain’t done anything.”
“Then show us your arms and prove you’re not an Iron.”
The boy didn’t move, only glared at the officers.
“Please,” Enne interrupted again. “I’m looking for a woman named Lourdes Alfero. She’s been missing since February.” Enne drew the letter from Lourdes out of her pocket and unfolded it. “She gave me the name of a Mr. Levi Glais—”
“Alfero?” Shark repeated. “Why you lookin’ for her?” He shoved the boy aside and advanced on Enne. He was two heads taller than her, and twice as wide. Enne was swallowed beneath his shadow.
“Um...” Enne stammered, the words dying on her tongue.
The other man dropped his cigar and ground it into the dirt with his heel. “There’s probably a mistake. Ain’t that right, missy?” Enne glanced toward the boy, but he’d taken advantage of the distraction she’d provided and fled.
Her stomach knotted. Did they know something about Lourdes? Enne thought back to another line from Lourdes’s letter:I encountered a little trouble that has delayed my return...
“Who’s Lourdes Alfero to you?” Shark’s fingers twitched as he reached for something at his side. A gun.
“No one,” Enne said hurriedly, doing her best not to stutter.Never let anyone see your fear. Another one of Lourdes’s rules—one Enne was certainly breaking. Her chest tightened as Cigar stepped closer, close enough to grab her. “My apologies. I believe there’s been a mistake. Thank you very much for your time.”
Enne dragged her trunk back into the crowd before they could stop her. Her mind raced as she attempted to conjure some sort of explanation for the officers’ reactions. Surely, they must’ve confused her mother’s name with someone else’s.
An uneasiness settled into her stomach—maybe there’d been no mistake. She was in the center of the harbor landing, but all around her were locked doors, locked doors.
Someone tapped Enne’s shoulder. She shrieked and whipped around.
“Scare much?” The boy smirked.
“You know, it’s rude to startle people, and—” And she needed to get out of here.
“Look over my shoulder.” He leaned down like he was whispering in her ear, allowing her to see beyond him.
The two police officers pushed through the crowd in their direction. Enne’s hands began to sweat inside her lace gloves.
“Who are you?” he asked. “First you’re looking for Levi Glaisyer, and now you got the whiteboots tailing you.”
“You know Mr. Glaisyer?” How could a boy like this know a gentleman? He smelled like he slept in a sewer, and there was something about his face that unnerved her—not so much his crooked frown as his crooked smile. He looked like a warning from her guidebook.
He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal a black tattoo of a club on the underside of his arm, like the card suit. It was small, halfway between his wrist and elbow. “I’m an Iron.”
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with...the terminology.” Though, even as she said it, Enne realized itdidsound familiar. Something she had read in the section about the North Side. Admittedly, she’d skipped most of those parts. The North Side’s reputation was so dirty, even its chapters in her guidebook looked a little bit stained.
The boy leaned down a second time. The whiteboots watched them from the end of the block, and Shark kept one hand on his gun. “You’re lost, missy. And walking straight into some muck. So take my advice: ditch your trunk, and scram. Playing nice is the same as losing in this city.” Before she could adequately digest what he’d said, he whispered, “Three, two, one.”
He took off.
Behind her, Shark and Cigar shoved their way toward her, cursing and knocking travelers aside. Enne whimpered, terrified, yet loath to abandon all her possessions.
But the decision took only a moment. Shewaslost, and the boy knew Mr. Glaisyer, Enne’s only connection to finding Lourdes. Maybe Mr. Glaisyer could explain the misunderstanding between the whiteboots and her mother. Maybe he possessed the key to those locked doors. And besides, possessions could be replaced.
She dropped her trunk, yanked up the hem of her skirt, and sprinted after the boy.
He ran two blocks past the end of the harbor before turning down an alley. Wheezing, she forced her legs to move faster. Her heels clicked loudly with each step, and sweat dampened her forehead and undersleeves. Enne couldn’t remember the last time she’d run. This behavior must’ve breached every one of Lourdes’s rules.
